


but tonight there's a full moon above me, a set of rules that tonight i can't abide

by notthebigspoon



Series: Stick 'Em Up [6]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-19
Updated: 2012-08-19
Packaged: 2017-11-12 11:05:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/490190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthebigspoon/pseuds/notthebigspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He tries to control himself. Really. He's cool as long as people are just insulting him. But then Victorino is on second and he tells Brandon to tell the little bitch to stay down and let the big boys play. Brandon politely approaches him and proceeds to politely beat the shit out of him. Nobody insults his boyfriend and gets away with it.</p><p>Needless to say, the benches clear.</p><p>Title taken from Mystery in the Making by Eli Young Band.</p>
            </blockquote>





	but tonight there's a full moon above me, a set of rules that tonight i can't abide

**Author's Note:**

> The politely beating the shit out of him bit is a reference to Kane's live album.

Today, Brandon decides, fucking sucks. He's woken up early by his manager and spends the morning fielding different phone calls. He goes in early and sits through meetings with the management. They can't do anything to him. Technically he did nothing wrong, he was just a spectator. They can't touch him. It doesn't stop them from yelling at him. It doesn't stop the trainers from doing as Bochy promised would happen, running him until he pukes. He curls up on a couch in the clubhouse after, head pillowed on a folded up hoodie, and falls asleep.

He wakes to a someone gently shaking his shoulder and he mumbles, cracking his eyes and peering up. Bochy. He groans and pushes himself to sit up, giving the manager a pleading look. “They already ran me til I puked.”

“Not why I woke you up. Time for BP. The rest are already out there, I wanted to talk to you alone.” Bochy chuckles, gesturing at the now empty clubhouse. His mood turns somber quickly. “I was there late last night. Talked to Theriot when he woke up. He's going on the DL obviously, but not just for the injuries from the fight. Whatever made him want to fight, these are issues he needs to resolve. I tried to convince him to deal with this but he's insisting it's not a problem.”

“Okay... but what am I supposed to do?”

“Get him to get help. He's a good player, we want him back, but we need him healthy. He won't listen to us but you're his best friend. He'll listen to you. Hell, last night and today it took your wife to get him to cooperate with the nurses. He was fighting them every time they wanted to give him medication, claimed it was messing with his head. Paranoid.”

“It was a severe concussion. They told Jalynne it could have lasting effects. With a brain injury, they don't know what's going to crop up until it happens.”

“Which means someone's going to have to take care of him when he gets out, keep an eye on him.” Bochy says, and Brandon knows exactly where this going. It's not making him as upset as he thought it might, he usually hates people telling him what to do.

“We're going to move him in with us after he gets out of the hospital. I don't want him to be alone.”

“So you're going to take some responsibility for this?”

“I feel like it was my fault. I have to take care of him. He's my best friend.”

“Well... you've puked and you're going to deal with the fallout, not to mention the public. If you keep your mouth shut, we'll stop talking about this.”

Brandon would say he's surprised but he's not, really. He may have pissed Bochy off but the man has never not taken care of his players.

BP and the game are miserable, no other way to describe it. He gets sidelong glances from his teammates and people shout from the stands. What really punches his buttons is Victorino and Ethier. One snide remark after the other. He grits his teeth and bears it, initially. Sticks close to Cain because Cain keeps him calm with a steady diet of soothing words and back rubs.

He tries to control himself. Really. He's cool as long as people are just insulting him. But then Victorino is on second and he tells Brandon to tell the little bitch to stay down and let the big boys play. Brandon politely approaches him and proceeds to politely beat the shit out of him. Nobody insults his boyfriend and gets away with it.

Needless to say, the benches clear.

He loses himself in the brawl, doesn't know how long it goes on. He does know that more than once he's pulled off of Victorino. He manages to get a few feet away and inevitably lunges forward again. In the end it takes Bum and Cain both to break up the fight, one with arms around his waist and the other around his shoulders. He's dragged to the dugout with his face pressed into Cain's chest and he can't help the sobbing. He doesn't even really know why he's crying, the emotional overload or pure rage.

In the dugout he throws whatever he can get his hands on. Screams with rage and collapses onto the floor, face going straight to its new favorite place, firmly buried in his knees. More than one person asks him what the hell that was and he tells them the truth, the asshole was insulting Ryan. His teammates are sympathetic, nudging him gently with their feet or patting him on the head. He gnaws on his cuticles until they're bloody, wondering how much they're going to fine him and how long his suspension is going to be.

It doesn't matter what his punishment is going to be. It was worth it just to lay that son of a bitch out.

He goes home to change and pick up the mail when he's sent home. Stops by Starbucks for coffee for his wife and boyfriend where he accepts attaboys and hugs from a few fans. He's not even a little sorry for he did and when he sees the wide grin on Ryan's face when he walks into the hospital room, he thinks that he'd do it all over again. 

“You, mister, are in big big trouble.” Jalynne sighs, patting his head and taking her frappucino with a happy noise.

“I know. Fines and suspension. I'd do it again. Victorino and Ethier wouldn't shut their stupid fucking mouths. I had to defend my boyfriend's honor.” Brandon mutters, grabbing a pen and a pad of paper. He thumps it onto the over-bed table in front of Ryan. “Write down things you want from your apartment. You're moving in with us when you get out of here tomorrow.”

“... what?”

“You're concussed, not deaf, you heard me. You're moving in with us. I promised Bochy that I would keep an eye on you and take care of you and that will be a hell of a lot easier with you in close quarters.”

For all his shock, Ryan looks ecstatic and Jalynne pleased. It wasn't like they hadn't talked about it. Sure, it's soon but he figures there's no time like the present and he honestly _would_ feel better with Ryan close by them so they could take care of him. But there's always the unpleasant part.

“You... okay, you're gonna be mad at me but you need to get help, Ryan. I know you've been depressed over your kids and this... the needing to be hurt. I think it'd maybe help if you talked to someone. Bochy's worried about you, we all are.”

Ryan manages a weak smile and squeezes his hand. “Hate to break it to you baby but you kind of took the slow boat on this one. Jalynne already made me promise I'd go, said she'd go with me the first time. Just didn't want to give in to Bochy. Or any of the higher ups, for that matter. My day hasn't been fun and I'm sure yours hasn't either.”

Brandon nods. When Jalynne says she's going to go home and take a nap, they both nod and kiss her goodbye. She's been there since last night, she needs a break and it wasn't like Brandon had anywhere to be the next day with the suspension. He draws up a chair, folds his arms and rests his chin on his arms. He makes a soft, pleased noise when Ryan's hand starts carding through his hair, fingers gently working at his scalp. He falls asleep there.

He doesn't wake up until the next morning. He's shifted so that he's slumped in the chair and practically curled into a ball. His back isn't thanking him and his hand is still aching from the brawl yesterday. It doesn't matter though. Ryan is coming home today, coming home to them, to their apartment which is now going to be his home too, if only for a little while. He helps get Ryan home and deposited straight into the bed with the promise of something really good for dinner if he'll behave himself and get the bed rest the doctors ordered him to take.

Gathering Ryan's things proves less problematic than anticipated, for all that the man had requested. He didn't have a lot of possessions, mostly clothing, movies and books. He gets it out of the apartment, leaving it startlingly bare and decides that, should Ryan choose to stay with them more permanently, they'll just get the rest later.

He doesn't like what he comes home to. Ryan is sitting up in bed with Jalynne's arms around his shoulders. She's whispering soothing words in his ear. He looks frustrated beyond words. Brandon climbs onto the bed behind him, pulling Ryan's back up against his chest and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Something going on?”

“Memory problems. He's having a little trouble remembering small things. Forgetting if he already asked something, where he put something.”

“Babe...” Brandon sighs, shaking his head. “The doctors explained it to you. It's in your aftercare papers. The concussion was bad, you're going to have problems for a while. Did you take something for your headache?”

“Uh huh. That was what I forgot. Asked Jalynne for aspirin, I'd already taken it. And then I tried to call my kids but I couldn't remember the number.”

“Don't think about it.”

“I have a brain injury. I can't think about a lot of things. I can't _remember_ things.”

“Look... you're going to be cranky for a while. You're going to be forgetful for a while. You've already been depressed. We'll see the doctors and if you need to talk about things we'll talk about things and we'll get through this together, alright?”

Ryan nods, a barely noticeable movement but it's enough for Brandon right now. He hates that he can't do anything so he settles for working on the short term, shifting their bodies around until they're horizontal, tucking Ryan up against his chest and locking an arm around his waist. Jalynne gets up to get the lights before joining them, snuggling forward into Ryan's arms.

The darkness and the exertion from the move get to him quickly, making him drowsy and soothing the ache in his bones, the tension in his shoulders. He almost manages to drift off before Ryan is shifting in his arms, looking over his shoulder. His voice is quiet, tentative, scared. “I'm gonna be okay, right? _We're_ going to be okay?”

“We're gonna be great. You're going to get better and be just as much of a pain in the ass as you ever were and you and my wife will make me miserable and I'm going to enjoy it immensely.”

“Good... good.” Ryan whispers, and he sounds like he really does believe it. 

Brandon hopes he does. Because Ryan's going to be okay. Ryan _has_ to be okay. He doesn't think he and Jalynne could go back to being without him, he's too much a part of them already. Losing him would be like losing a limb.

They're going to be okay. They will.


End file.
